AC One Shots
by Punkiarty
Summary: A collection of my little one shot ideas between Assassins Creed characters, and sometimes OCs. Requests open!
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! Decided to make a little area for all my little Assassins Creed Ideas ~ If you have a request, let me know, I'll be glad to do it! Sorry if they're a bit out of character ~**

* * *

Another day at the bar.

Thomas Hickey was of course a regular, enjoying the intoxication of the alcohol in his hand.

Only difference, today a woman walked in and sat down two stools away. She seemed to be alone, and Hickey deemed her as someone beautiful. She really was – long black hair and blue eyes.

Making his way to sit next to her, he was going over something in his head to say that he probably thought was attractive or romantic, but really would come off as annoying and sleazy in his drunken state.

Smiling, he looked over at her.  
"Hello, dear," He slurred out, a bit awkwardly.

The woman looked at him a moment, before looking away with no response.

Scolding himself, he slowly reached a hand over to set on her knee.  
"I was wondering if perhaps-"

He was cut off as soon as his hand touched her, she flinched away too quickly and looked at him in distraught.

"P-Please sir, don't touch me…" She replied rather shakily, before making her way to the last stool at the end.

Blinking in shock, he went back to his drink and didn't speak to her again. He would have loved to continue to pursue, but something about how nervous she had seemed, how she had almost appeared … _Afraid_ of him, shook him.

She too got a drink, and another, and another yet, until she seemed to be wasted. She laid her head on the counter, her eyes closed, she seemed to have some kind of pain – he recognized the look. The drinking the pain away, rather than facing it directly. He didn't want to admit it, but he was curious. What was it that troubled her so much?

She became a regular at this bar, and every time she came, she did the same thing – sat down at the last stool, ordered drinks until she couldn't drink anymore, and lay on the counter as if enjoying her time away from the pain.

"What's it with you, aye? Always here for a drink, some time away from pain, and then off you go. What troubles you?" He finally asked one day.

She looked up from her drunken state, blinking at him slowly.

"I'd rather not say. But Its nice, no, to escape sometimes?" She said with a small smirk, before laying her head back down and closing her eyes.

"What's your name?" She questioned with her eyes closed, surprising him.

He smiled a bit, sitting back. "Thomas. Thomas Hickey." He responded a bit proudly with a cool expression on his face.

She smiled a bit herself, adjusting her spot.

"Nice name, Thomas. I'm Charlotte Brookes."

A woman named Charlotte Brooks came to the bar everyday and drank by herself until she couldn't feel the pain anymore.

One day was a little different however; she came in with a bit more pain. Bruises on her wrists shown, which caught Thomas's attention. He blinked in concern furrowing his brows together. Going to her, he quickly pulled down her sleeve, showing scars, and other bruises, and a very shocked face from the woman.

"Where do these come from, eh? And don't lie to me!' He demanded to know.

She looked a bit terrified, before she looked at her arm. Then she looked back up at him, her expression unwavering while his was stern.

"My Husband gives em to me… I'm not a good wife…" She admitted honestly.

He pulled her sleeve back down gently, suddenly realizing it all went together. The drinking, everyday getting away from pain. Everyday escaping her husband.

"I'd say he's not a good husband." He said as he sat back down, taking another drink.

She didn't say anything in return, but didn't drink anymore. Just sat and thought, as she had been found out.

Another day came along, when she sat and drank, but someone came in angrily.

"Charlotte!"

Her head snapped up and eyes widened with fear as a man stood in the doorway. He walked over to her and stood by her stool.

"Roger, I –"

"So that's it then? This is what you've been off doing every day? What the hell is wrong with you?" He said angrily as he grabbed her wrist and began to pull her away from the place.

"Please let go, I-"

"Excuse me sir, a moment please?"

The couple looked over as a new voice spoke. Thomas was there with a smile, looking at Roger as he opened the door to the bar.

"Please come back in, I want to discuss something with you?"

Roger hesitated a moment, before letting go of Charlotte and looking back at her.

"Don't move." He ordered sternly before following Thomas back inside.

A few moments passed, and Charlotte wondered what could possibly be taking so long. Was everything alright? When the door opened again, Thomas came out with a bloody nose, walking to her.

"Goodness, are you alright? That looks awful…" She asked quickly, trying to clean him up a bit.

He laughed and looked down at her, shaking his head.

"Aye, not as bad as his broken jaw, I'd say." He commented.

She looked up at him and blinked in surprise. He had won the fight?

"What'd you do that for? Now he's going to be after me-"

"No. You can start over. He said the hell with you, and now I'm saying, why not try again?"

Thomas smiled a bit, looking at her considerately.

"What do you say? Want to try it again? I promise I won't do any harm, and his jaw will stay broken as long as I'm around." He offered.

She blinked a moment, listening to this whole absurd idea. Then she smiled, and nodded slowly.

"Alright, Thomas… I can try again."

And as he linked his arm with hers, he could tell this time would be different. This wasn't just another girl – but someone who needed true care.

And he would be that person.


	2. Chapter 2

**Short one, but I kinda like Lee because I have this respect for him - he used to be such a kind and pleasant person before he became a Templar. So heres to him, and a character i may or may not bring back later. sorry if these go to fast ;u; And remember I'm open to any requests ~**

* * *

Late night, Boston.

Charles Lee, the fearsome Templar stood outside, foggy breaths escaping him as his feet crunched in the snow.

He leaned against a building, his darkened eyes looking at his surroundings. Everyone was asleep at this hour.

He felt some kind of thought cross his mind, about his currently lifestyle, his current self, his path.

But he pushed the thought away, looking at his shoes as a flash of anger crossed his eyes.

"You know too, don't you?"

His head snapped up, and he narrowed his eyes to see a hooded figure come out from one of the alleyways. He couldn't tell by their voice if they were male or female, but the spark in their eyes proved something feminine.

"Who the hell are you?" He growled, standing up straight now.

"You feel it too, don't you? I saw it in your expression just now. You know just as well as me." She continued, standing in front of him.

"I don't know what you're talking about. You're crazy." He shot back, brushing a strand of hair away from his eye.

She laughed, shaking her head. Then, catching him off guard, she slapped him sharply and the smile faded away.

"Don't play dumb, Lee. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

He pushed her off quickly and got out his gun, pointing it at her.

"You shouldn't have done that. Who the hell do you -" he stopped talking as she held up a mirror to him.

His angry face, filled with rage over this situation. It softened just a bit, as he looked directly at himself.

Of course he knew what she was taking about.

"I think you've picked the wrong path Lee, and it's a shame, really. Look at that man in the mirror and tell me - is it Charles Lee? Or is it someone else?" Her voice spoke, though he didn't look at her.

The gun lowered, and he took the mirror from her hands slowly.

"I remember a man who used to smile, and act polite. Used to have no power and help because he wanted to.

Someone who had many friends, and most importantly, a man who was happy."

He looked at her when she said that, a frown on his face.

"Happy?"

She smiled at him, her eyes locking with his.

"You've forgotten what that word means, haven't you, Lee?"

There was a pause, and the silence was answer enough from the man.

"Now tell me - has being a Templar helped you at all? Has it made you the man you've always wanted to be?" She started to pace in front of him.

"You had a friend once, didn't you? What was his name... Hickey? What was to come of him?"

"He wasn't my friend."

"You'd always deny it, but you know I'm right. He was your friend."

He stopped talking, looking back at the mirror again.

"Being what you are is going to kill you, Charles, and everyone you love. All of them. Thomas was only the start you know, you stick around, and you'll be alone.  
The life of a Templar is nothing but selfishness, and pain."

She tilted her head a bit, watching him sympathetically.

"You're not Charles lee anymore. You're someone who wants to be someone you can't."

His expression was even, but it held a bit of sadness. It was his mind exactly.

"You'll learn one day, one day when you're alone, that you've made the wrong choice." She called to him as she began to walk away.

He watched the mirror a little longer before he called after her.

"Who are you? How do you know all this?"

She turned to him, smiling as she pulled down her hood. Long brown locks flowed down, and she pulled out a necklace with a cross on it.

"Because, I used to be one of them."

She vanished then, and the only thing found there the next day was shattered glass on the ground.


End file.
